At the age of sixteen, she becomes a diplomat.
It’s a very special, very unique skill. It involves laughing at your lover’s jokes. Smiling and nodding even when you think his opinion’s wrongheaded. And, most importantly, acting like he’s the only person on the planet, even if you were having a tete a tete with your riding instructor earlier in the morning.
It gets her a lace veil and a handsome groom at the age of twenty-one. And a slightly off-white one at twenty-five. And a rather brownish one at thirty-two. All because she’s quite good at charming their pants off. And occasionally cramming her hands into their wallets when they aren’t looking.
This one’s about sixty but he’ll suit her just fine. She smiles through red lips, and manages to roll her eyes only when he’s not looking. This one will do for now.
At least until his will’s properly probated.